The Sickie
by Morning
Summary: Biker Mice or not they are still men and act accordingly


I do not own the Biker Mice From Mars and I will not make any profit from writing this story. This one is for the ladies you'll understand after reading it. Enjoy. The Sickie 

Title by Cameron Morning story by Momma Morning

A well-worn leather vest was hung on the closet doorknob and faded jeans laid over an antique wooden rocking chair, on its seat was a brown holster, green utility belt, red scarf and metal knee pads and on the floor were faithful black biker boots that had seen many years of service. The room was filled with an odor of eucalyptus that was emitting from the steam billowing out of a small machine that made just a slight humming sound.

And in the mist of a pile of cycle magazines, a large box of tissue, well read, slightly dog-eared, Headbanger's comics, and a jumble of sheets, a blanket and one very frilly white lace comforter, was one very sick, achy, tan furred Martian hero.

The Plutarkian invasion, a crash landing on Earth, and Limburger's breath was child's play compared to what the flu was doing to the normally, cool, calm, always in control Biker Mice leader.

No matter which way he lay something hurt and he couldn't get comfortable, being hot one minute and cold the next. He clicked the TV remote tying to find something to watch that might get his mind off how wretched he felt, but the only thing he could find was cooking shows, soap operas, and those programs where one Earther was suing another for the weirdest array of reasons.

_"CHAR-R-R-LEY-Y-Y,"_ he waited, but got no response.

After about 5 minutes he let out another pitiful call, _"CHAR-R-R-LE-Y-Y-Y."_

Down in the kitchen the normally, sweet, understanding, tolerant young Earth woman was ready to have him stuffed and mounted. She glared at the ceiling and grumbled never imagining that the same voice that was a cross between and seductive growl and an enticing whisper, would be the last thing she wanted to hear.

The first day wasn't too bad; the second she endured knowing he was really sick, but now her patience was wearing very thin. Between having to practically threaten him with a slow death to take off those dirty clothes and take a shower, put on proper sleeping attire (which ended up being a pair of gray sweat shorts, white tee shirt and sweat socks) and keeping Modo and Vinnie from sneaking him those darn hot dogs, which ended up only making him sicker, she was ready to take that adorable tail and wrap it around his throat ending the misery for the both of them. Grabbing the tray, that contained his lunch, she took a deep breath and walked up to her bedroom, the bedroom she gave up so he could be more comfortable. 

Kicking the door open she stood giving Throttle a stare that stopped his bellowing and made him slip down under the covers. "**Throttle**, I was only gone 15 minutes, what could you possible want in that short a time? I told you I had to go and fix your lunch. What do you want?" she hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

He dared to poke his head up from the covers and looked at her with the most pitiful whipped, lost, puppy dog, expression, "I just wanted to know whatcha were doin.' Sorry, I don't mean to be such a royal pain."

As much as she might have wanted too, she just couldn't stay mad at him. The sad little boy remorse on his face was enough melt away the anger and it was immediately replace by a frustrated, forgiving sigh, "I can't believe one person can make such a mess just laying around."

She placed the tray on the dresser and began to collect all the magazines piling them up neatly on the floor. Grabbing all the covers at once, she pulled them off the bed, causing Throttle to jerk his knees closer to his chest. Charley tried to ignore his very nice, almost perfectly shaped, muscular golden tan fur covered legs, but failed.

 Laying the covers on the rocking chair she brushed the area around where he lay and smoothed out the sheet. Then taking each one of the bed covers she shook them out and gently laid them back over him. Then she reached up behind him fluffing the pillows and adjusting his shoulders into a more upright position. Throttle didn't say much merely watched her and cooperated as much as he could. 

Taking a deep breath she reached back over to the dresser to retrieve his lunch placing it carefully on his lap and sitting on the edge of the bed. She reached up pushing his hair out of the way to feel his forehead, "Well at least the medicine is keep that fever down," 

He didn't look up at her, "Yeah, I guess."

"Jack said it wasn't a cure, it would just lessen the severity of the symptoms," she was trying so hard to keep from smiling; he looked like a five year old that had just broken the cookie jar.  

"How long it this thing supposed to last?" He looked at her face trying to see if she were still mad at him.

Charley let a smile break through, not able to control it another second. "Another couple of days if you do everything Jack told you and stay put."

"Where's my blaster I'd rather just end it all now," he slumped back against the pillows.

"Throttle, I can't believe you are being such a big baby, no wait, yes I can. You macho men types are always the worst."

"I can't help it if I'm sick Charley. Man, where's your compassion," he pouted.

"I lost it the 15th time I had to come up those stairs. Here eat your lunch it will give your mouth something else to do besides whine," she picked up the napkin and tucked it into the neck of his tee shirt.

Throttle looked down at the tray of clear chicken broth, green tea and saltine crackers scowling, "is this all I get?"

"This is all your stomach can handle or have you forgotten the nice waltz you had with your porcelain partner, when you ate those hot dogs Vinnie snuck up here." His expression soured even more thinking about it.

"So don't complain, now open," she demanded holding the spoon accompanied by a determine glare. Throttle relented and allowed her to spoon-feed him his lunch.

"Okay, now doesn't that feel better on your stomach and it will probably stay there?"

"Yeah, so you were right this time," He continued to pout. 

"Please, I'm right all the time, thank you." Charley smirked triumphantly handing him the cup of tea and taking the tray away.

"Hey, there is no sugar in this stuff."

"I know your stomach can take that either or should I remind you about…." She cocked her head toward the bathroom.

"No, I'll drink it with out the sugar," he took a deep breath and down the greenish brown liquid in one gulp shivering in disgust and handing her the cup.

Charley rolled her eyes and walked into the bathroom. She came out carrying a good stiff brush.

"And whatcha gonna do with that?" he lean back away from her.

"Pop you in the head with it if you keep asking so many questions, now scoot up," she commanded pushing slightly on the shoulder in the direction she wanted him to move

He saw the look on her face and knew she meant business and grudgingly slid down closer to the foot of the bed. Charley took one of the pillows from behind him and sat where it had lay placing that pillow back on her lap. 

"Now lay back." 

Throttle start to protest but figured why bother, she was going to get her way so he turned on his side and laid back down taking hold of the pillow.

"You look like something the cat dragged in," now it was her turn to fuss as she began brushing through his hair. 

He flinted a few times as she worked the initial kinks out, but soon she was brushing through the now untangled mass of gold and bronze strands. Charley had always wondered what it felt like and was pleasantly surprised feeling how soft it was, sort of a cross between silk and down. Before long she could hear his breathing had become heavy and knew had fallen asleep. Slowly she eased herself from behind him and stood watching him glad to be able to have some peace for a while. 

She pulled the covers up over his shoulders and went to pick up the tray before leaving, but turned back to look at him snoring softly. "_Why is it they all ways look like sweet innocent children when they are asleep,"_ she pondered chuckling a little, then leaning over to kiss him sweetly on the fore head.

                                                            ******

By the next week Throttle was back to his same charming energetic self and Charley, some how, had survived the whole ordeal with out committing a mercy killing.

"Thanks, Babe I couldn't have made it with out ya," Throttle smiled hugging her from behind and kissing her cheek.

She blushed enjoying the feel of his hug and kiss, "Well let's just keep you as healthy as possible. One more week like that and your little hyperactive trio would have been a duo."

The sound of Vinnie and Modo riding into the garage interrupted them joking.  Both Martians took of their helmets and looked like something that had just escaped Karbunkle's lab.

"Umm Charley girl I think..," before he could get another word out the white Martian grabbed his stomach and flew off his bike and up stairs to the bathroom. Modo didn't say anything just slumped over his handlebars groaning.

"My life stinks on ice," Charley lamented going up to the bedroom to pull out the roll away cot and check on her supply of tranquilizers.

The End


End file.
